The Disease

No future in sight,

No path in mind,
He rushes to keep from falling behind.

It’s the economy…
It’s his family…
No need to look for a remedy.

No need to sweat the big deals,
Or cry over lost meals.
Don’t worry about the rust,
Or brush away the dust.

A cure will come soon
Nature’s medicine will sweep the globe,
    To wipe away the disease.

They tell us not to worry,
While the common man is buried,
Beneath piles of paperwork and debt.
While corporate monsters,
Sit back and sponsor,
The destruction of the good that’s left.

An honest living was all he wanted:
It could not be achieved.
Fucking land of opportunists,
It could not be achieved.

No need to sweat the big deals,
Or cry over spilled milk.
Who cares about the rust,
Who cares about the dust?

A cure will come soon
Nature’s medicine will sweep the globe
    To wipe away the disease.

When everyone wants a piece…
But there’s not enough to go around,
What was supposed to be a feast,
Turns to fresh hunting grounds.

We are the disease…
We are the disease…

Jesus roll over in your man made grave!
Even if you rose, we couldn’t be saved…

A cure will come soon
Nature’s medicine will sweep the globe,
    To wipe away the disease.